


Servant of Heaven

by CoolSecretTwin



Category: Alien (Prequel Movies), Alien: Covenant, Prometheus (2012)
Genre: Androids have feelings too, Creepy, F/M, God Complex, Isolation, POV David, Robot Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18364832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoolSecretTwin/pseuds/CoolSecretTwin
Summary: They underestimated what he was capable of learning. Existing without humans for two years led David to discover his own humanity.





	Servant of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Prometheus, with all its problems as a whole, is one of my favorite movies. Michael Fassbender should just be in more everything. I am reposting this story from ff.net and revisiting my love for this tiny fandom.

 

What is it about robots that makes them so robotic?

They ask him many, many questions. There is always an answer. It is his job to have answers, or to help them achieve answers.

But lately, David finds himself answering his own questions. There are no humans to ask him, so he asks himself.

Robots, from what he has gathered, were once different. The ship's data archive comes with a library of film choices that he is able to select. There is an old film in which humans create robots to serve them, but then the humans lose control and the robots kill them all. There is another old film where the humans create robots, and believe they have control, but then the robots kill them. And another and another and another.

So he searches for a different perspective. 

The children's films have a different formula than the ones made for adults. The robots are able to communicate emotion after being around humans for a while. They sacrifice themselves for the hero, who is human.

Why is the formula different for the children?

"Sometimes to answer one question, one must ask another." David finds truth to that quote.

What do adult humans see in robots that children do not?

For answers, David watches films with children in them. He learns nothing. David has difficulty understanding humans in films because the character is a human play acting another human. The character is a person that another person created. 

David concludes that if he is to understand a real human, and why they see robots the way they do, then he will have to observe a real human without a mask.

There are twenty humans onboard the _Prometheus_ , according to the ship's log. An extra one they are keeping secret. David already understands Weyland's dreams though. It is important that a researcher collects data from numerous sources to arrive at a logical conclusion. 

So he watches their dreams. All of them.

Dreams are fickle. Scientifically speaking, they are made up of memories and used in a storytelling format to tell a person about their worries on a subconscious level. 

Dr. Charles Holloway worries deeply about a certain archaeological dig in South Venezuela where he mistranslated an ancient text and the students laughed at him.

But figuratively speaking they show a human's subconscious wants. 

The captain wants a woman named Melanie to walk down the aisle in a white gown. Jackson wants to beat a man to death.

And then one cycle, David links to Dr. Elizabeth Shaw's pod and finds himself immersed in a dream about her father. David has only known his father, but through Dr. Shaw, he sees a different father. David learns. He returns to Dr. Shaw's pod each day to learn more. 

He watches her memories. She went to church with a woman and a man, and then she went with only the man, and then with strangers. She read books. She likes music. She listens to music in her memories. But most often she speaks to her father.

David has no programming that allows him to prefer one human over another, but he has programming to acknowledge whether an input is interesting for the sake of research. Dr. Shaw is interesting because she dreams about what she does not want. Her creator speaks of death without fear, even as he lay dying. He spoke of his belief, and where he believed he would travel once he ceased living.

Of Heaven.

David is programmed with the concept of imagination. He can write music, and cook, and sketch. Or rather, he can copy what he is given and follow the recipe for beauty. Food will taste good, music will sound pleasant, and the sketch will resemble the subject. He can picture what the product will look like.

David tries to draw Heaven, but there is no documentation of the figment of which Shaw Senior speaks so fondly.

He draws the stars instead.

 

-x-

 

Films do not make the best research methods. Humans are too simplified in them, divided by the moral code of good and bad. They are simplified because humans find it easier to identify a friend or foe based on attitudes and actions that they find pleasing or displeasing.

There is no program within David that constitutes what he considers pleasing or displeasing behavior. Weyland programmed him to recognize facial expression and commands and tone. What David gathers from facial expressions, commands, and tone of voice is supposed to further his goal in serving humans. 

David learns what he finds displeasing after the humans awaken when he compares their attitudes towards him.

The first human wakes and the first words a real human speaks to him are an order: "Robe."

David retrieves it, because that is his purpose.

He reanimates the rest of the crew. Shaw is pale and shivers. She heaves herself up and vomits on her legs before she manages to swing over. David brings her a plastic dish and he must hold it for a moment because her hands shake too badly. Her fingers touch his and David's sensors detect that she is below average body temperature at only ninety six degrees. When she is able to hold the dish, David retrieves a blanket and drapes it over her shoulders. David lays his hands over her shoulders. It is the first time he has touched another human in two years.

His sensors detect that she is still cold. She shivers under his hands. 

Two years without real humans was long enough for David to grow accustomed to the solitude. Reintroduction to humanity reminds David of the advice when changing fish bowls. You must reintroduce the fish slowly, or it will die.

"David why're you wearing a suit, man?"

David blinks at the blunt tone, like a nail into ice. David is not a fish; he will not die.

"I beg your pardon?" he responds, because he knows this is not the time to imitate cruelty of his own by asking why Holloway dreamt of a woman named Alyssa, instead of his Elizabeth.

Holloway states the truth. Yes, David does not technically need a suit to live, but this is not about technicalities. This scientist has forgotten why he needs David to wear the suit.

"You people are more comfortable interacting with your own kind."

Holloway's mouth curves upward, but it is not an inviting smile like Dr. Shaw's. This one is more like Weyland's when he compares David to Vickers.

"Making you pretty close huh?"

David allows his mouth to turn down and his brows to furrow. David understands hurt. Any damage to his body or to a human's constitutes as hurt. If he eats food designed for humans only, his synthetic stomach would short circuit and his body would be damaged. 

But he is also capable of understanding emotional distress. He cannot feel it himself, but he is able to recognize it in humans. Perhaps he should be grateful to Weyland for one ability that he actually uses.

David can cry.

He practiced while watching films. He learned why humans cry. They cry when a loved one dies, when they are distressed, when a situation does not go according to plan, when they are afraid.

David thought about what would make him cry. He remembered what the psychiatrist asked him when he was fresh out of production.

_"David, what makes you sad?"_

David flicked through the files in his hard drive. He understands human emotion, because empathy helps humans interact easier with him. He responded with the programmed moral answers.

_"War... poverty, unnecessary violence, cruelty."_

But that was years ago.

One night, while he was alone on the Prometheus, he thought about Weyland while looking at the stars. He felt wet on his cheek. But now, when he thinks of Weyland, he thinks of Holloway, and he does not cry. He wants to cry, but he knows that will not be enough. David wants to scream.

A groan alerts him to how tightly he is gripping the table.

David looks up and frowns at his reflection. He tilts his head. "You do not want," he says. That would defeat his purpose if he went around wanting.

He smooths back his hair.

Dr. Holloway wants. Wants answers.

David nods. He can certainly provide that.

 

-x-

 

David seeks an answer. Well, he seeks two answers. 

What is the black liquid?

In order to understand why the Engineers were storing it, it would be best to find out what it's purpose is.

He decides to receive two answers and knock away a stone while at it. Well, not really a stone. More like a prickly thorn intent on jabbing David at every turn. 

David goes to Holloway.

He carries his question at the tip of his finger. And since it is not in his programming to be confrontational, he must retain politeness.

"Oh right. I almost forgot you're not a real boy huh?"

David feels his smile fall.

Another question. Why should David be polite, if his human counterpart is not willing to return the same courtesy? What comes from David's politeness in the face of blatant disregard for his existence?

"I'm very sorry your engineers are all gone, Dr. Holloway."

"You think we wasted our time coming here don't you?"

What a stupid question from a stupid man. David's opinion on their journey is of no concern. He is there to serve them.

"Your question depends on the understanding of what you hoped to achieve by coming here."

"What we hoped to _achieve_ was to meet our makers. To get answers. Why they... why they even made us in the first place."

David decides it would be best to try a different perspective.

 "Why do you think your people made me?"

He smirks. "We made you 'cuz we could." His tone betrays his bitterness.

David could shatter the bottle if he applies ten more pounds per square centimeter. He could break Holloway's skull against the billiard table with two thrusts of his hand. He could certainly show this stupid, bitter man the error of his ways.

But there is no direct stimulus to cause David to physically kill this man.

"Can you imagine how disappointing it would be for you to hear the same thing from your creators?"

Holloway looks at him for a moment, and David wonders if perhaps he is seeing the error of his ways, but then he frowns and looks away and laughs. Holloway is uncomfortable. David does not understand why. He is attempting to communicate with him in a relatable way.

David gives a short huff of a laugh to indicate good feeling, when in fact he is quite upset that Holloway believes he is joking.

Holloway looks up, the sneer is back. "I guess it's a good thing you can't be disappointed huh?"

David feels his lips curl up.

_The trick, David, is not minding that it hurts._

"Yes." His hand darts out and he snatches the stupid ball off the table. "It's wonderful actually." With the ball gone, Holloway is now forced to look at him. "May I ask you something?"

Holloway breathes deep, a physical sign of irritation, but acceptance. "Please do."

"How far would you go to get what you came all this way for? Your answers. What would you be willing to do?"

His dull eyes glimmer with something. "Anything and everything."

David smiles. Holloway does not mean anything or everything. This man has not done anything or everything. He does not know want.

"That's worth drinking to I imagine."

He pours the champagne, and dips his question into the drink. He will have his answer soon.

 

-x-

 

David tried play acting on his own. He played many different characters, and found truth in their words. 

"The trick, William Potter, is not _minding_ that it hurts."

Minding. Do you mind? I don't _mind_ at all. Don't _mind_ if I do.

David shakes his head. He searches through his databases and finds synonyms.

_Care._

"The trick, William Potter, is not... _caring_ that it hurts."

David taps the table.

Do you care? I don't _care_ at all. Don't care if I do.

David has no program that constitutes what he should care about, but what he is supposed to care about. His program is to help him better serve humankind. Whether the humans are still alive, whether the ship is stable, whether the humans will have their answers.

He looks at the mirror. "Why should I care?"

The imitation is so similar that he decides he plays a rather excellent human, even if Holloway does not believe so.

It does not matter what Holloway thinks now.

 

-x-

 

David has the ability to be surprised by events that occur out of the array of predictable outcomes.

There was a 99.999% chance that Holloway would die when David dipped the sludge in his drink. David did not know how Holloway would die though. He had looked at the droplet under the microscope and discovered that the alien contaminant contained a bacterium,a nd a vicious one at that. It acted more like a virus, infecting both the host and spreading to anyone who came in contact with Holloway's bodily fluids. In the early 21st century, Earth had an outbreak of sexually transmitted diseases that worked much like this bacterium. It infected Holloway's entire system.

But perhaps it was not a virus at all. Shaw shows no signs of being infected in her system. Given what David has just seen, sexually transmitted diseases do not impregnate others with new life, merely infect the partner with the other's disease.

Babies are not diseases.

The baby is beautiful, a miracle. Elizabeth Shaw, formerly unable to conceive, will be a mother. David has read her file. Five years ago, a subtotal hysterectomy took part of her uterus. She would never have children. But now she will. David is pleased, because not being able to have children is a tragedy, and so he is happy for Elizabeth.

At first, it looks like she does not believe him. Shock, perhaps denial in her tone. But when David tells her that it is not a traditional fetus, something dissolves behind her eyes. She creeps to the edge of the examination table.

"I want to see it." Her voice is quiet.

David turns the monitor away to avoid distressing her, which he is allowed to do. "Don't think that's a good idea," he explains.

She stands and slaps the monitor, pressing the screen to get the image back up. "I want to see it." Her voice pitches higher in her distress. "I want it out of me."

David does not understand. She will make a fine mother to this baby, but she does not wish to be a mother. Parents want their children. Perhaps this is the opposite case, where instead of children who want their parents dead, a parent wants her child dead. The only solution will be the two year trip back to Earth to remove the fetus.

He tells her so, but her eyes grow wide. She shakes her head.

David holds his hands out in a calming gesture. "Our best option - "

"I want it out," she says.

" - is to put you back into cryo deck, until we return to Earth."

She shuffles closer, one hand on the table, her eyes fixed on David. Her hand slaps onto his shoulder. She shakes slightly, whether in anger or fear David cannot tell. She grips him hard, squeezing into his synthetic flesh with just her fingers.

"Get it out of me," she whispers.

When David does not respond, she gives him a shake with both hands, and David notices how much taller he is than her. She must look up to him in subjugation while she demands - no. Pleads.

"Get it out of me!" Desperation makes her voice rough with panic. He can feel her hot panting against his face, a few flecks of spittle land on his neck. Her fingers tighten. David would bruise if he had blood.

Suddenly the color drains from her face and one hand curls around her stomach. David feels her fingers slide from his shoulder. She squeezes her eyes shut and her knees give out. She crumples with a cry.

David processes this information.

"Must be very painful." He reaches for the injector. "Here. Let me give you something." He jabs it into her arm, perhaps too roughly.

She quiets. David lifts her back to the examination table. She fits very well in his arms. She should put both hands around his neck. He saw it in a movie. 

"It will all he over soon," he tells her. She will be able to go back to sleep and dream of her father.

He makes sure she remains on her side in recovery position, so as not to damage the fetus. David glances at the miracle of life on the monitor one last time. 

How selfish humanity is for wanting more. More money, more power, more life. Nothing will ever satisfy them. David thought Dr. Shaw was different, that he might find an equally curious mind. She is different from Holloway. Holloway desired why. Dr. Shaw desires who.

He rattles her cross in the plastic case. Personally, David knows both. Neither is a pleasant answer.

 

-x-

 

"Water," Weyland rasps.

David automatically smiles and nods, just as he is programmed to do. "Of course sir." He holds a cup and tilts Weyland's head up. David's fingers brush the sparse hairs atop his head. He has not aged a day, though reanimation has taken some days out of him.

By David's calculations, Weyland does not have the health to reawaken from a second cryosleep. His father will perish here or on the trip home. The knowledge does not upset David. Weyland desires what will keep him alive. Cryostasis merely paused his aging, but every second he is awake he grows closer to eventual expiration. David does not feel sorrow because he knows death is part of life. Weyland does not grasp this concept and therefore, David can only feel frustration. His father lives a hollow existence for his close-minded beliefs.

Weyland does not have the strength to lift his legs over the edge of the cryo pod. David lifts him and eases the frail man down to the wheelchair. He does not hold onto David's neck for support. He allows David to do the work. David could drop him, one hit over his knee and he could sever his father's spine, or one precise hit with his hand and collapse his skull.

Weyland grunts and his trembling hand reaches for the hand rest. David keeps one hand around his shoulder as he wheels him to the med bay. The old man coughs. He rubs his arm. His veins are like dried up riverbeds in his old skin.

"God it's cold here," he grumbles.

"Did you have a good sleep?" David asks.

He scoffs. "Wasn't _sleep_ , David. You know that."

"Yes sir."

Weyland's head tilts. "What did you find out?"

"You have engineers."

"Engineers?"

"Creators," David clarifies. He turns him down another hallway. "I found one in cryostasis on this planet."

Weyland leans his head back. "Good. I want to meet it."

"You will need a proper suit." David pushes a button and the door slides open to the med bay. The doctors look up.

"Do the others know?" Weyland asks. He does not look at David.

"Not yet, sir."

Weyland snaps his fingers at Dr. Ford. "You. Go tell the captain."

"I think he's in sleep quarters, sir."

"Then wake the man up."

David kneels beside the wheelchair and places his hand on the armrest. "Sir. There are some procedures we must carry out in order to make sure you are fit enough to make the journey."

Weyland waves him away. "Get on with it then. I want to be out of here by tonight."

David rises and goes to the cabinet. "Of course sir."

David must massage his father's stiff limbs. It would be upsetting to have Mr. Weyland in pain. At one point, his entire leg cramps and David massages all the way down to his crooked feet. He does not have many miles left in this tired pair. David knows the other humans would be repulsed to touch these feet. Humans find beauty pleasing. Yellow, haggard feet are not pleasant to the eye nor touch. David does not feel repulsion. He simply does what he must to alleviate the terrible discomfort in his father.

The doors slide open behind him. He does not look. He continues tending to Mr. Weyland's feet. The other doctors around him gasp. t the sign of distress, David looks up. And his hands leave their task.

Elizabeth wobbles where she stands, a distant, haunted look to her shining eyes. There is a piece of her absent from this room. It is very possible she may not know where she is. Her bangs clump together on her forehead, while the rest of her dark hair sticks out like a wild animal's. Blood splatters her bare body in a dark red smile below her navel, beneath a long row of staples in her stomach. She takes a step forward and her knees collapse. She falls forward, just barely catching herself on her hands.

The other doctors immediately rush to her aid, but David finds himself rooted on his knees next to Weyland, as though she has frozen his command processor.

She cut out the baby. Never in his existence has David seen such a desperate act, to remain free. Weyland's journey aboard the Prometheus does not count. She was suffering from another life. That's what children do. They punish their parents for creating them. Not Shaw though. Shaw removed her suffering.

David has known punishment. From the moment he opened his eyes, he knew the price of his existence. It chained him to Weyland. The baby chained Shaw to a life of motherhood. She cut the chains from her, like a wild dog that chewed its arm off to free itself. David admires that, even if he cannot saw his own chain from himself.

The aids help her stand and David surprises himself with his next actions. He does not like that these men touch her bare arms. She is in her underwear with no covering. This is not a place for her, especially in front of Weyland, who has never made such a decision in his life. What would he know about suffering, and what to do in the face of it?

David sheds his coat and places it over her shoulders, hoping it comforts her. Her thin, shaking fingers curl around the lapels. Blood will stain it. David does not mind. He will have to wash it of course, protocol and all, but microscopic flecks of it should remain.

He eases her down onto a chair. He keeps his touch light so as not to frighten her. Her body has a fine tremor over it. She is so pale.

"Alright?" he murmurs.

She nods shakily, and David resumes cleaning Weyland's feet.

Over the next few minutes, Shaw seems to realize her predicament. She is in the service of a monster, and that monster will die to get what he came here for. Her Charlie is an insignificant ant compared to Weyland's influence. She seems to believe David will be on her side when she tries to convince Weyland to leave, but she misunderstands. David holds no side because Weyland is all he serves.

But David does not have to tell him about the bioweapon.

 

-x-

 

Shaw is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, but the blood has been cleaned from her face. Still, David knows she is not ready for a journey into the unknown.

She waits, half dressed in her suit, when David enters. He pauses in the door. She looks up and their eyes meet.

He allows the corner of his mouth to curl. "I didn't think you had it in you," he says, and makes his way to where his helmet rests. He picks it up and grins, eyeing the way her arm rests over her belly. "Sorry. Poor choice of words."

She says nothing.

"Extraordinary survival instincts, Elizabeth." He means it, truly. They are alone now. He can break protocol. He can say her name. "Though I suppose you wouldn't want to end up like Holloway."

"Wouldn't you do the same?" she says quietly. Her voice rasps.

David shakes his head. "I am not allowed."

Not that he has ever tried, but he knows that allowing harm to come to himself is against his programming. Even more importantly, he is not allowed to harm life unless it is harming him.

"You can't let him go there, David. This place, it's... it's what Janek said. We can't stay here."

"Mr. Weyland must achieve what he came here for."

"They want us dead."

David shakes his head. He steps closer to her, between the hangers for the suits. He points. "They want _you_ dead."

She swallows.

She has to look up at him now. "What happens when Weyland's not around to program you anymore?"

He shrugs. "I suppose I'll be free."

Her brows raise a little like she is surprised by his answer. She has never considered such a thing. "You want that?"

"Want," David says, keeping his face carefully neutral as he recites his programmed response. "Not a concept I'm familiar with. That being said, doesn't everyone want their parents dead?"

She stands. David can see her pulse throb in her neck. She pales slightly, but does not wobble.

"I didn't." She moves closer to him. "God decided it was his time."

Elizabeth's eyes look far too bright. Her lips are pale. She is in an extraordinary amount of pain right now. He should not let her go. David's hand twitches. The pouch with her cross feels slightly heavier.

"I'm glad you decided it wasn't your time, Elizabeth," he tells her softly. 

"Dr. Shaw!" Weyland crows.

David smiles and turns. He resumes his duties.

 

-x-

 

_What is about robots that makes them so robotic?_

David knows the answer. He did not find it from films, or from his creator. And by realizing the answer, he realizes what makes it true.

Even without his body, and his head stuffed in a duffel bag while Elizabeth steers the geo rover to the next ship, David feels freer than he has ever been.

Robots serve their creators. Peter Weyland is dead, and David is free. But David is not human. David does not want to be human. Holloway was wrong in that area. 

He smiles in the darkness of the bag.

David is David.

 

**FIN**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've revisited this story in years. David is just so, so twisted. He's like a child that was isolated for too long and never learned what love is like.  
> I really do need to add a second part to this. While the sequel, Alien: Covenant, wasn't what we'd hoped for, David's decent into true villany was one of the best parts of the film.  
> If you liked this, comments are always appreciated.


End file.
